I left my sweet love o’er the hills,
For I thought the stars would lead me home,
But far beyond a thousand journeys,
The faint echoes drum repeatedly:
Please come home,
Please come home.
The wind and breeze bear witness,
To my dying wish I be laid to rest,
In the grounds of my beloved birthplace,
Where the smell of flowers bid me:
You are home,
You are home.
But as I wander through the vast empty land,
My guiding star I search in vain,
And so a promise I give myself –
Nev'r to stop till my love I find again:
I’m coming home,
I’m coming home.
June 27, 2013 - Carolyn Khor